Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Hot
by LaggyAndYouKnowIt
Summary: Drangleic is a bleak and treacherous land. Danger awaits at every turn. Invaders hide in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the inattentive, the unprepared. Souls will be stolen, humanity will be taken. One Chosen Undead's journey will force him discover the meaning of this thievery, and will stop at nothing to retrieve what has been taken from him. No matter the cost.
1. In The Beginning

Chapter 1: In The Beginning

Flashes of color crossed his gaze, each one forming into a new scene. _A stormy forest. A rickety house. A woman, whose features melted from her face like wax as he reached for her. An old hag, clad in red robes. A whirlpool, expelling flying spirits from its murky depths._ Each vision flashed before his eyes, only to vanish before he could take a good look at them. Suddenly, a new vision appeared. _A figure, clad in faded robes, stepping across the ledge, and plunging into the abyss of the whirlpool._ He felt himself falling, and falling. Time lost its meaning. The fall seemed never ending. The last thing he truly remembered was the bone jarring impact as he crashed to the stony ground.

As for how much time had passed, the man never knew. He never knew how long the fall through the whirlpool took. He never knew how long he had laid there, splayed out on the stony floor. The only thing he did know, was that he was no longer unconscious. With a heavy grunt, he slowly raised himself onto all fours, and crained his head upward. Instead of being greeted by the sight of iron grey clouds and flashes of lightning, he found himself staring at an almost complete darkness.

He had trouble determining where the ground ended and the sky began. The only feature that stood out from the darkness was a huge, white crack. Light poured in, giving a glow similar to that of the moon. As his nervous eyes adjusted to the dim light, he examined the area. The man could just make out a path, which led towards a warm, orange glow of light, and out of sight.

Placing his hands on the floor, the man was about to rise, when something about his hands stopped him. He looked at his fingers, and suddenly realized what was wrong. His normally pale hands were now a mottled shade of green. His heart rate quickened as fear began to take shape in the pit of his stomach. Trying to shake off the fact that something was seriously wrong with him, he slowly rose to his feet and straightened up. He took an unsteady step forward, and nearly lost his balance. He reached out and grasped one of the several stone columns that stood around him.

" _Wait...Columns?_ " the man thought to himself, perplexed. Keeping a steady grip on the stone, he turned and looked up, suddenly realizing what he had been lying under. A large, stone gazebo stood above him, softly glowing in the dim light. Long dead moss hung from its curved roof, covering a series of carved lines within the stone. His gaze travelled down, noticing a series of ornate circles that were carved into the gazebo's cracked floor. Oddly enough, there seemed to be an imprint on the exact spot where he had landed; a shadow that distorted the floor's grey color. He blinked, staring at the spot where the shadow lay. It was now gone.

The man's heart fluttered, fear coursing through his veins. His gut told him to get as far away from the stone gazebo as possible. He gladly heeded his own advice. He pushed off the stone column, and stumbled up the grassy path as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him. The man quickly passed through a gap between two hills, and found himself in a small field. As he stumbled on, he saw piles of what appeared to be bones, lying underneath the grass. To make matters worse, he heard the footsteps of _something_ rustling through the field. It was getting close too. Gathering his strength, he pressed on, exiting the field and crossing a rickety wooden bridge.

He soon found himself bathed in a warm, orange light. In front of him stood a… house. Except, it wasn't a house. It was a massive tree, with a door embedded in its trunk. A lone torch sat outside the door, trying to overcome the darkness that lay outside. It flickered as the wind blew. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm the man, the light made him feel...safe. He felt himself relax as he slowly hobbled over to the door. His eyes drifted over to the flame of the torch, watching it fight and struggle to keep the darkness at bay. Something about it seemed...familiar, but he couldn't place it. He remained where he was for a few minutes, before finally turning away from the flame and grasping the door handle. He gently pushed, and the door slowly swung open with a shrill creak.

A moment later, a cold, cackling voice pierced the silence. "Heh heh heh… what seems to be the ruckus?"

Inside the room sat three old women; two at a table, one by the fire. Each was dressed in blood red robes. A younger woman stood nearby, dressed in simple maid attire. A roaring fire cracked in the fireplace, spreading a warm, orange glow across the gnarled walls of the room. The man regarded the room with a calm and relaxed expression, momentarily forgetting what the voice had said. As his eyes fell upon the three old women, a sudden flashback crossed the man's eyes for a millisecond. _An old hag, clad in red robes…_ He had seen one of these women before! Shock crossed his weathered face

"Ooh my! Your face..," muttered one of the women. "The face of the curse."

The man stopped cold. " _Curse? What curse!?_ " the man thought to himself, unable to speak through his disbelief.

"It's an Undead," cackled another of women, the one nearest to the fireplace. "An Undead has come to play. Heh heh.."

The shock had now faded from the man's face, but confusion had taken control. The man knew nothing of the "Undead" things that the woman had spoken of. He didn't even know anything about himself. He couldn't recall his memories, nor his past. Not even his name. Before he had a chance to speak, the woman continued.

"They all end up here, all the ones like you."

Again, the man found himself unable to speak. The woman, who seemed to have sensed the man's confusion, pressed on.

"You spoke to that kind old dear, didn't you? Heh heh…"

Though the man continued to remain silent, his thoughts rushed through his head like a tornado. He thought about the old hag, the one he had seen is his vision. Had he actually spoken to her? Actually met her? If that was true, then were the rest of his visions true? He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed the hag's next comment.

"You're finished. You'll go hollow…"

"Hollow..," the man whispered.

"Yes, you will become one of them."

Before the man even had a chance to question himself on what a "Hollow" was, one of the other women had already provided and answer.

"Hollows prey upon men, feast upon their souls..," she went silent for a moment, watching the maid place a small cup on the table in front of her. "This is the fate of the cursed. Heh heh heh…"

Suddenly, all of the women were laughing and chuckling to each other. The man shifted his feet uncomfortably. None of this made any sense.

As the laughter died off, the woman who hadn't spoken yet, turned her gnarled face to the man, and asked, "What is your name?"

The man remained still for a moment, caught off guard. It was a simple question, but it seemed like the hardest one in the world. No matter how hard the man thought, he couldn't clearly remember it. It was on the tip of his tongue, like a carrot held in front of a hungry rabbit, but just out of its reach.

"Umm," he whispered, his gaze wandering around the room frantically. His eyes settled on the fire. As he watched the flames flicker and flare, he suddenly began to remember.

"Ha-..Hak-...Hakon," he stuttered, suddenly beginning to lose his focus. The room swam in his vision, and he had to grab the table to steady himself.

"At least you know your own name," chuckled a woman at the table.

" _Barely,_ " Hakon thought to himself, still clutching the table with an iron grip.

The woman reached for something deep inside her robes. "Here's your reward for sharing." She produced a small, rounded shape from her robes. It was shaped vaguely like a man, with a pronounced head and body. However, it was completely hollow, with small brown fibers crisscrossing across the body of the object. It looked extremely fragile.

"It's a Human Effigy," the woman said calmly, extending it toward Hakon.

Hakon slowly extended his arm, and gently took the Effigy from her grasp. It was light, almost as light as paper, but not as fragile.

"Take a closer look," came the woman's voice. "Who do you think it's supposed to be?"

However, the voice sounded as if it came from a tunnel, growing fainter and fainter. As Hakon's eyes stared into the Effigy, his peripheral vision began to fade. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and swayed on his feet.

"Think back, deep into your past." Her voice was even fainter now; barely above a whisper. Darkness was overtaking him. "Yes, it's an Effigy of you…"

Hakon felt the Effigy suddenly crumble to dust in his hand, and the floor gave a mighty lurch. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground was a faint flicker of flame, then complete and utter darkness.


	2. Finding The Path

Chapter 2: Finding The Path

Once again, flashes of color and light took control of Hakon, filling his unconscious mind with new visions. This time, however, he recognized what the visions contained. _A lone warrior, facing down an army of men. A man, holding a glowing orb up to a massive stone bowl. A lone figure, facing down an ancient lord with a flaming sword._ Hakon recognized the man as himself, reflected across the timelines of the world.

Suddenly, a new vision took form in his mind. He was now looking at himself, but as he was now. His skin was a mottled, rotted green, reminding him of dead moss. His travelling clothes were in tatters, with large holes exposing parts of his arms and legs. His weapons had vanished, likely lost in the fall. His hair had turned to a wispy black, and appeared to have fallen out in clumps. Empty white eyes stared back at him; devoid of any signs of life.

But as he examined himself, his body began to change. His clothes began to morph into new ones. Brown cloth and leather studs covered his upper body, and armored leather pants covered his legs. A worn, silver helm appeared over his head. His green skin changed colors, becoming a pale white. His hair returned to its normal length and light-brown color, and his deep blue eyes stared back at him. Hakon couldn't help but notice how _normal_ he looked. Peace fluttered through his tired heart.

Just as he began to take some comfort in remembering his true self, the vision abruptly faded, and the crackle of a large fire slowly filled his ears. Feeling pulsed through his body, and he felt the hardwood floor that he was strewn out upon. He opened his eyes, and was welcomed by the flickering orange glow of the fire. Grunting, Hakon slowly raised himself into a sitting position. To his surprise, he found himself wearing the very clothing he had seen in his vision. Unlike his previous attire, these clothes actually fit him, and looked brand new. The helm upon his head was a nice fit, and unlike others, didn't obstruct his vision. As he held his hand up to examine the leather, he couldn't help but notice that his hand was no longer mottled green. It was his normal pale white color. Despite his confusion, a rare smile crossed his face.

As Hakon rose to his feet, he noticed a worn silver shield and a broken sword lying in front of him. The shield seemed to be in good condition, as it had only a few scratches and dents. However, the sword was another story. At first glance, it seemed to be shaped more like a dagger; short, with a stubby blade. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was really a sword, only its blade had been shattered in half. Hakon hoped he would have the chance to get a better one. He wouldn't be doing much damage with this shell of a weapon, and the last thing he needed was the rest of the blade shattering.

He glanced back at the women. None of them gave him a second glance, nor did they appear to have moved… so how had his clothes been changed, and how had the weapons brought to him? More importantly, did they even care that he had just collapsed in front of them? Yearning for an answer to his questions, he turned toward the women to ask. However, one of them cut him off before he even uttered a syllable.

"All people come here for the same reason," she spoke, raising her arms from the wooden table.

"To break the curse," added another of the three, barely moving a muscle. "You're no different, I should think."

Hakon watched as the maid stepped forward, taking a wooden cup for the women. Once again, silence echoed throughout the room until the maid had moved off.

"Hmm, doesn't stand a chance," said the third woman, her eyes glinting dangerously.

Immediately, a fiery rage exploded in Hakon's chest. " _How dare she!"_ he thought to himself. She didn't know anything about him. She didn't understand how much he had lost, how much he had sacrificed, just to stand in front of them. She didn't understand what it meant to lose all of one's memories, to forget everyone they once knew. She didn't know what it was like to enter a foreign world, with no idea of how they got there in the first place.

The woman nearest to the fire must have sensed his internal rage, as she quietly chided the others, "Well, you never know!"

Suddenly, the room was filled with the chuckles and laughter of the old women, seemingly mocking Hakon, who stood seething in the center of the room.

"Go through the door, and trot along to the kingdom… But remember, hold on to your souls. They're all that keep you from going Hollow," said the third woman, not bothering to look at Hakon.

Hakon's eyes bored into the woman, waiting for her to clarify whatever she had just said. After a few moments of tense silence, the woman finally exclaimed, "Oh, I'll fool you no longer… You'll lose your souls. Over and over again." She emphasized each syllable, taunting Hakon. The room was once again filled with cackling laughter.

Hakon's hands clenched into fists. He'd had enough. He was tired of trying to decipher the hag's cryptic sentences. Tired of left wondering what a _Hollow_ was, or how the _Curse_ applied to him. All he wanted to do was get as far away from this place as possible. He wanted to go home, wherever home was.

Without so much as a sound, Hakon crouched down and picked up the sword and shield that lay upon his feet. He slid the shield onto his left arm, and gripped the sword with his right hand. With a curt nod to the maid, he limped over to another door; one that stood opposite the one he had previously entered. The door opened at his touch, emitting a soft groan as it swung open. As soon as he had exited the massive trunk, the door closed on its own with a snap. Hakon jumped slightly, not expecting the door to have closed so suddenly. He put his weight on his weakened leg, and nearly collapsed again. Placing a hand on the doorframe, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, cursing softly. If only they had managed to fix his leg too. He still was having trouble walking on it. Looking around, Hakon could see that there were three notable landmarks in the vicinity; a tunnel leading through what looked like a wall of branches, an abandoned cart, and a rusted poker, standing inside a pile of ash.

As he looked at the rusty poker, something stirred deep in his soul. He suddenly felt a warmth spread throughout his body. He felt his emotions fade, leaving a relaxed and calm feeling. But as quickly as the warmth had arrived, it was gone. Anger and confusion returned to his mind. However, his legs began to move as if they had a mind of their own, carrying his tired and confused body towards the poker. Hakon just couldn't take his eyes off of it. There was _something_ about it that he just had to know. He had to make the warmth come back. As he stumbled closer and closer to the poker, he raised his hand, reaching rough metal. But it felt like the journey was taking forever, despite the fact that the poker was only a few steps away. The moment his fingers brushed the cold metal, Hakon heard a loud whoosh. A bright light ignited at his feet.

Immediately, the warm feeling returned, but even stronger this time. Hakon's legs wavered under him for a moment, before folding completely. Hakon collapsed into a sitting position, just as a tingling feeling rushed up his weakened leg. Immediately, Hakon felt the warmth mend his leg. But it didn't stop there. Hakon felt his tired body fill with strength as the warmth travelled to his soul, revitalizing him.

His once bleak gaze now radiated courage, and a series of images filled his mind as he looked into the fire. _A town, overlooking the ocean. A large stone obelisk at the tip, and a dark pit at its center. Another poker, embedded in the ground. A woman, in green robes, staring out over the seas_. Hakon blinked, and the fire flickered for a moment.

A clue perhaps? He glanced back at the flames, which flickered and flared innocently in the darkness. _Is the fire giving me clues? Directions?"_ he thought to himself, perplexed. He glanced at the path through the branches. Darkness enveloped the entrance, only giving way to a small glow of white near the tunnel's end. As for what lay beyond the tunnel, Hakon couldn't tell; it curved off in another direction. He glanced back at the fire, finally understanding what he needed to do.

With a small grunt, Hakon returned to his feet, noting how his leg was no longer unsteady underneath him. A wry smile crossed his face; the first in what felt like ages. After grabbing his sword, and adjusting the shield on his arm, Hakon stepped away from the fire. He paused before the abandoned cart, only to examine a body that had been left beside it. After collecting a torch and a small white orb, Hakon turned his back on the house of the old women. He slowly walked down the tunnel, before rounding the bend, and moving out of sight.


End file.
